


Somewhere That's Green

by Books_Cats_and_Tea77



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempted Murder, Bisexual Crowley (Good Omens), Character Death, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Gay Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), The Them as a gospel choir, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), crowley is a ball of anxiety, little shop of horrors au, set in the 50s/60s but no homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Books_Cats_and_Tea77/pseuds/Books_Cats_and_Tea77
Summary: Anthony Crowley has never been lucky, that is until Angel comes along, then everything starts to go his way but at what cost? And dose the cost even matter if it means that Aziraphale finally starts to see him.This is a Good Omens Little Shop of Horrors AU because why not. This is my first multi-chapter fic so hopefully, you enjoy it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Houseplants (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue - Little Shop of Horrors

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this AU. There is going to be a little bit of violence and abuse in this fic so I'll make sure to include warnings in the notes before chapters containing that stuff. But if you've seen Little Shop of Horrors you'll know what to expect.

On the 21st day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places.

The place in question was a rundown old flower shop on London’s Skid Row, the sign above the shop had at one point read ‘Bee’s Flowers’ but was so faded that you could barely make out the letters. The only clue as to what the shop contained was a look through the large glass storefront, however, a thick layer of dirt obscured the view of the store and most people didn’t have time to go in and look around. It was safe to say that  _ Bee’s Flowers  _ hadn’t seen much business in the past few years. Despite this the grumpy old owner Mx. Beelzebub still had two employees, Anthony Crowley and Aziraphale Fell - an unfortunate name that led to quite a bit of teasing in school - they were an odd collection of people, to say the least. Beelzebub was always in a foul mood grunting out one and two word responses unless they were yelling at Crowley for something - which they did quite often - Aziraphale was almost the exact opposite, a blinding ray of sunshine in the otherwise dull shop. With his bright blond hair and unmatched ability when it came flower arrangements, he single-handedly made working in the quite shop day in day out bearable, at least that’s how Crowley saw it.

Crowley was a mess, he was a walking example of a bisexual disaster and gay panic at every second of the day. He seemed to have little to no control over is incredible long limbs making him an incredible clumsy people, which usually lead to many things around the shop getting broken making Beelzebub yell and Azriaphale giggle. Not a mean giggle - or at least Crowley hoped so - but a soft joyful sound that never failed to make Crowley blush as he cleaned up the mess he had made. The thing about Crowley was that while he loved working with plants, he hated that shop, he hated that it was always dark and devoid of colour resembling more of the basement he slept in and less of the place you would buy flowers for your sick mother, he hated that there were never any costumes to impart his infinite knowledge onto, he hated how Beelzebub treated him and he hated the poster hanging up that for some godforsaken reason read ‘don’t lick the walls’. But at the end of the day he was lucky without this job and without Beelzebub, he would still be out on the street and at least he had Aziraphale. Not that Aziraphale was his, he wanted him to be but it was never going to happen it was just some far off dream that helped him get through the days in this little shop of horrors. Aziraphale was never going to be his angel, Crowley wasn’t that lucky.


	2. Chapter 1 - Skid Row (Downtown)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a normal day at Bee's Flowers, Crowley is mooning over Azriaphale, Aziraphale is unaware that Crowley is in love with him and Beelzebub is, well, Beelzebub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Allusions to spousal abuse, injury mention, brief violence mention.
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns you can contact me on Tumblr (@nothinglessthanseven).

Crowley’s alarm goes off at seven ripping him from a fitful night on his squeaky cot in the basement of Bee’s Flowers. All he can register for a few moments is the blaring of his alarm and the harsh beam of light weeding its way into his room through the crack of a window near the stairs. Crowley sits up with a groan stretching and twisting at inhuman angles as he reaches to shut off his alarm, and instead knocks it onto the cold concrete floor. Retrieving his alarm Crowley thinks, not for the first time, that his life must be some sought of cosmic joke. Here he was about to enter his 30’s and he was uneducated, broke, living in a crumbling basement, stuck in a dead-end job that he hates, and, in love with a man who will never love him back. Just a typical life in Skid Row.

Crowley, along with the rest of the poor souls living in Skid Row, was more a victim of the neighbourhood than a resident, just another life to be chewed up. Growing up on the street Crowley had to learn to be tough, learn how to stand up against a world that was always pushing him down. Contrary to what his tight black ensemble lead others to believe Crowley was always better at faking tough than the real thing and he had his fair share of crakes on his heart to prove it.

By the time Crowley made it up to the store Beelzebub was in their usual spot behind the counter waiting impatiently for Crowley to open the shop, Crowley could feel their customary scowl from behind the days’ newspaper that was hiding Beelzebub’s face from view. It had only just turned nine but they were already frustrated with him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Open the shop, it’s already past opening don’t want to keep the customers waiting.” Beelzebub complained without even looking up.

“What customers?” Crowley mumbled, flipping the sign and undoing the deadlock.

“What was that?” Beelzebub turned to look at Crowley for the first time since he came upstairs.

“I said yes, Mx. Beelzebub.” 

"That's what I thought"

Crowley slightly cursed himself for saying anything out loud. As much as he despised working here, it was still a step up from the streets and talking back and asking questions was the kind of thing that got you cast out, and being cast out would be like taking a thousand-foot dive into a pool of boiling sulphur. Sighing to himself Crowley got started on his tasks for the day. 

You see, what Crowley hated the most about working at Bee’s Flower was not Mx. Beelzebub themself or even the constant worry that he may become homeless again, it was the lack of actual flowers. When he was a child Crowley would often sneak into the city to see the beautiful gardens, learning to read using the plaques marking the different species. When Beelzebub offered him the job at the shop he had thought it was a miracle. But it wasn’t. In this dark shop with it’s dead and dying plants, Crowley felt like his dreams had been set ablaze and now he lived among the ashes.

***  
It’s past 10 when Aziraphale finally gets to the shop. The rusted old bell above the door announces his presence and Crowley looks up form the broken pot he was sweeping up, every time Crowley sees Aziraphale he could swear he stops breathing. Standing in the doorway framed by light Crowley can see every beautiful soft curve of Aziraphale’s body. The man is all soft edges and even softer colours with a golden halo atop his head and piercing blue eyes that almost makes Crowley forget that the angel seemed to be on a one-man mission to make tartan stylish. The trance is broken when Aziraphale steps through the door and Crowley can see the beginnings of a black, hastily covered up, forming on his left eye. His grip tightens around the broom handle, he has been in enough fights to know that is not the type of injury you get around the house. How dare someone hurt Aziraphale? His angle, the sweetest man he has ever met, possible in the whole world, the sight makes something boil in his chest. That feeling quickly sank upon hearing Aziraphale’s strained happy tone.

“Good morning all, sorry I’m late Mx. Beelzebub, I had some delays this morning.”

Beelzebub looked up from their paper giving Aziraphale a half nod in place of a greeting. If they had noticed Aziraphale’s eye they didn’t say anything. It wasn’t until he came up to him with a cup of tea that Crowley released that he had been zoned out thinking about how Aziraphale had received his black eye. He thanked him and set the broom aside before joining him at the small table in the centre of the shop. They drank their tea in silence while Crowley tried and failed to work up the courage to ask about Aziraphela’s eye.

The day passed in relative silence with Crowley and Aziraphale making occasional small talk, and Crowley unable to work up the nerve to ask about his eye. It was Beelzebub who eventual broached the topic. It was nearly closing time and Aziraphela was cleaning the benches for the third time that day when Beelzebub said, “That’s a new look for you Aziraphale, didn’t take you for the smokey eye type.” Their words laced with meaning. Aziraphale immediately froze and Crowley’s heart stopped.

“Oh, um, well,” Aziraphale stuttered, “I just, um, you know, wanted to try something new. Speaking of new, Crowley” Azriaphale’s panicked eyes turned to face Crowley, the left one now a deep purple. “Have you shown Mx. Beelzebub your new plant yet?”

Desperate to do anything to help his angel Crowley mumbled out “No, I’ll go get it.” Before rushing down the staired two at the time nearly tripping and falling the resting of the way. 

The plant Crowley brought back was liken nothing on Earth, it reassembled something like a fly trap crossed with a rosebud crossed again with a cabbage. It was small, barely filling the coffee tin it was planted it.

“What the hell is that?” Beelzebub exclaimed when Crowley set it down on the counter.

“Well I couldn’t’ find it in any of my plant books, so I’ve been calling it an Angel plant.”

“Why?”

Crowley risked a glance at Aziraphale who had been cooing over the little plant since he set it down.

“No reason.”

Beelzebub rolls their eyes, “Well you may as well put in in the window, you might have actually found something useful, for once.”

Crowley doesn’t see it but when Beelzebub said this Aziraphale looks to him with pride and adoration shining in his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, hopefully, I can have the next one up quicker than the last. I would love the hear what you think in the comments, they make my day.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like this first little chapter, please leave kudos and comments to let me know what you think. :)


End file.
